Baseball Trading Cards: The Fabric of Our Youth

[Teach]

"I'll give you two Three Musketeer bars for your Mickey Mantle card," my friend said. "Sure," I said, as I handed over my “Mantle” for his two candy bars.

Yes, baseball cards were a medium of exchange. They were even more than that – they were a way of life. When I was growing up in a 3rd-floor Morton Street (Boston) apartment, those baseball cards were a large part of our youth culture.

As young boys living in Dorchester-Mattapan section of Boston, my friends and I collected hundreds and hundreds of baseball cards (we also collected football cards, hockey cards, movie-star cards, even “Hopalong” Cassidy cards). As I recall, we did just about everything with those cards. We talked about them, we “shot ”them against a stoop, and as cited, used them as a medium of exchange.

Further, when we rode our bikes, we put duplicate and triplicate cards in between the spokes of our wheels to make the bike sound like a motorcycle, or was it a helicopter? We even invented baseball-card dice-games whereby certain dice outcomes indicated a base hit or an out. We selected teams (sounds like Rotisserie Baseball). We developed starting lineups and even kept records of hits, homers and RBI’s. We went so far as to bring in relief pitchers. Any unsuspecting person who came to one of our houses (we often had two or three games going on at the same time) might well have thought that they had just walked in on a floating craps game.

One of things we did with our cards was to shoot them against the stoop. My friends and I usually had one special card that we taped over with Scotch tape; it was called: “The Shooter”. This is the card we'd use to shoot against the wall. I remember that my "shooter" card, for the longest time, was a utility infielder with the Boston Braves named Sibby Sisti (maybe I just liked the euphonic sound of his name). The "Shooter" was never surrendered when you lost. It was sort of the “Alpha Male” in the baseball-card hierarchy, the "sine qua non." When we lost at shootings baseball cards, we'd often give up a card we had triples or "quads" (quadruplets) of. I recall winning one shoot in which I ended up with eight Turk Lown and seven Irv Noren cards.

The game itself involved shooting baseball cards like you'd pitch pennies. The object of the game was to get your card ("shooter") as close to the wall as possible. Many a dispute erupted over which card was closest. Some kids used their fingers to try to measure the distance or gap to the wall between two cards. Others went so far as to go into their nearby house and get a ruler. Sometimes it came down to millimeters.

Yet, when all was said and done, there was one card position that topped even those cards that were touching or nearly touching the steps; it was called "a leaner". It was a baseball card that actually leaned against the wall forming a right triangle (my first geometry lesson). That was the best possible outcome you could have. No one could top "a leaner" unless they themselves could also toss a leaner. In those situations, we had to determine which card stood taller on the wall.

Yes, there was one way (besides throwing one yourself) that you could deal with “a leaner”. It was an act of card-shooting self-sacrifice. An act of baseball-card courage. You know: the idea of giving up your individual chances for the benefit of the group. You could try to “take out the leaner”. You could attempt to hit the leaner with your shooter thus knocking it down from the wall. There were, of course, consequences for such card-shooting heroism. Not only would you likely take yourself out of the competition, but you could, in the process, damage your "shooter," as well.


Further, not only were we learning geometry by shooting baseball cards, we were also learning physics. There was an aerodynamic aspect to shooting cards in order to get the optimal lift…the optimal glide. There was also the carom factor (doesn't the angle of incidence equal the angle of reflection). Shooting cards was not unlike imparting topspin to golf ball with your driver. It's like an airplane taking off (talk about high pressure and low pressure). In any event, some kids took this shooting cards so seriously they'd actually practice for hours. Over and over, they'd twist their wrists and shoot the cards toward the wall in their house. Just like surfers who are looking for that “perfect wave,” the baseball-card shooter was looking for that perfect release. That exact delivery that would take their card to the edge of the wall.

Yes, as I look back well almost 70 years, it was a wonderful time, those (Boston) Dorchester-Mattapan days. And yes, those baseball cards: Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, Jackie Robinson and a host of others, were part and parcel of our youthful experience. What wonderful memories! And all those Topps baseball-card wrappers that were strewn all over the sidewalk, not to mention the flat bubble gum that came in the packages.

Now, if I could only find that boyhood friend of mine and see if he'd swap me back my 1953 Mickey Mantle card for those two Three Musketeer bars.

[chiguy]

Some of my most vivid childhood memories revolve around collecting cards. I collected baseball, football and hockey. Growing up in Chicago, hockey was my favorite sport. My brother once got hold of $10 that was undetected by our parents. This would have been around 1968. He sneaked out of our 2nd floor bedroom window at night and went several blocks to the store and bought 100 packs of hockey cards. I was the lookout and got him back in the house via the basement door. We had a great time that night opening one pack after another, all the while chewing piece after piece of that awful gum. We were sure back in those days they would put less Hawks in the packs that went to Chicago so you would buy more.


The only thing I ever stole in my life was three packs of hockey cards from Franklin's market on Augusta Blvd. I thought I was home free leaving the store but Mr. Franklin grabbed me by the collar just steps outside the store. I must have been 6 or 7. He told me to give him back the cards and that if I promised never to steal anything again, he would not tell my parents. It worked....decades later this is still the only thing I have ever tried to steal.

[Teach]

All the cards but #1. In 1954, Topps came out with a 60-card NHL hockey set. Hockey Hall-of-Famers like Gordie Howe, Harry Howell, “Gump” Worsley, Andy Bathgate, Bill Gadsby, Alex Delvecchio, etc. were part of that series. At the time (I was about to enter junior-high), I had a neighborhood friend, a big hockey fan (we’d go to several Bruins games at the old Boston Garden) who had every one of the cards, EXCEPT one, #1 Dick Gamble. Gamble would spend most of his hockey years playing in the AHL, but he did have stints with NHL teams, particularly the Montreal Canadians.

In my Boston neighborhood, we had a variety store not far from my apartment building. The store carried single-player, one-cent, hockey cards. As I headed for the variety store, I had already “hatched” my plan.

I knew the cards at the variety store were displayed in an open area at the front of the store. The individual packages could be handled by the customers.

As I recall, I entered the store. I remember that the proprietor was engaged – call it distracted – as he was talking with one of the customers.

In any event, one-by-one, as quickly and as surreptitiously as I could, I held the individual wax packages containing a single hockey card up to the light (like you’re looking at a piece of mail without opening the envelope). I remember saying to myself, “Doug Mohns, no; Bucky Hollingworth, no; Bill Mosienko, no.” Then, on about the 4th or 5th try, Voila! Numero uno. Number #1, Bill Gamble (His card was as scarce as hens’ teeth). I remember giving the variety-store proprietor a penny (It’s the best penny I ever spent).

In the end, I traded my Dick Gamble mint card for all of my friend’s duplicate hockey cards. As far as hockey cards were concerned, it was, in my case, a “rags to riches” story. Or, was it?

Just recently, I checked out the value of a 1954 #1 Dick Gamble mint hockey card: $6,500. Oh, to make matters worse, I did have a 1954 Gordie Howe (it wasn’t mint) card. The mint Howe card is worth 25k. Even “worn” Howe cards are worth $500+.

[Marshall Bennett]

I still have all my sets I bought after 1977. They're now almost worthless. I quit after about 15 years. Had several 1980 sets with Ricky Henderson's rookie card. It fetched close to $200 in the early 90's. Now if you're offered 20 bucks you'd grab it.
Neighborhood kids and I started collecting/trading cards the year Maris hit 61 home-runs. In those day the earlier numbered cards were the easiest to get. They were released first. Cards numbered 500 or higher were the last and hardest to find a player noteworthy in. In 1964 Mickey Mantle's card was one of the first and I vividly recall us throwing his out we'd get so many in packs. We also put them on our bikes with clothespins. All were wrapped with rubber bands by teams and in shoe boxes. Eventually we went from cards to something more "mature" and they were probably thrown out.
Cards went the same route as stamps, even coins to a large degree. Only the extremely rare are treasured anymore. As generations died off, new ones lost interest. With the case of cards, collectors were also blindsided by dozens of new card makers that lessened the energy to collect. I imagine the internet and computers had a lot to do with lack of interest collecting just about anything anymore.

[oughtoh]

I lost a bunch of my cards in the spokes of my bikes in the 50's and early 60's. Still have thousand of cards that my daughter wants to keep after I die. Mainly baseball, hockey and some football. I still look at them ever once in a while. They bring back a lot of memories of when I use to follow baseball and really enjoyed watching it. Since my dad past away, I only watch the playoffs anymore.

[ultracapper]

Used to go to the corner store daily and buy 3 or 4 packs of cards in the early to mid 70s. Still have my 1974 Topps set. By the time they were done distributing the BB cards and had moved on to FB cards, I needed 1 card to complete the entire 660 card set, Gene Tenace. By the time I packed it all away 5 or 6 years later, I was still in need of that card. Finally broke down about 10 years ago and went to a card shop and bought the finest 1974 Topps Gene Tenace card I could find. Cost me 75 cents. I bet I spent 20 times that, in 1974 dollars, that September 1974 trying to get lucky and get that damn card.

[hyipro]

You learned geo from card tossing, I learned how to read, from comic books (besides school) opened up a whole new world, who knew the
Dick Tracy watch, I loved, would someday be on my wrist, like 50
years latter. I still have SUPERMAN ISSUE #1 TUCKED AWAY, in
pristine condition, maybe someday I can get more then .10 for it....